


And This is the Story of How They Met

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Falling Skies
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 06:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3436685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tom is with the Espheni between seasons 1 and 2, he's not alone in his cell.  The Espheni have a Volm captive as well</p>
            </blockquote>





	And This is the Story of How They Met

            They throw Tom into a cell with an alien, one that doesn’t look like any of the aliens he’s seen before.  The galaxy is bigger than he thought. 

            It studies him intensely when he’s thrown into the cell, and Tom lifts his chin up so he doesn’t look intimidated.  He definitely feels scared, but the last thing he wants to do is show it.  The alien looks like it could snap him in half; he has to get out of here and back to his boys, though.  No time for being snapped in half.

            They stare at each other for a while.  Tom figures that it's probably pointless to try to talk to it.  There are no harnessed kids around, and even if it doesn’t need a harnessed kid to speak, what are the chances it speaks anything close to English? 

            “Do you speak English?” the alien asks.

            Tom’s eyebrows raise.  Okay.  “Uh, yeah.  You too?”

            The alien inclines his head.  “We have been studying your species for quite some time, and we have determined that English is one of the most prominent languages on your planet.  I also speak several other languages, but English is the most prominent in this geographical area.”

            “You’ve been studying us?” Tom asks.  “So you’re one of them?” He nods out towards where the skitters are.

            That’s obviously the wrong question because it starts muttering angrily in a language that’s definitely not English. 

            “You’re not, I take it?” Tom asks.

            “I am Volm; we have fought the Espheni for generations,” it says.  “To be accused of working with the Espheni is the greatest insult among our species.”

            Okay, so the invading aliens have a name.  Good intel to have, maybe.  Assuming he leaves here alive. 

            “I’m sorry,” Tom says, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I didn’t mean to insult you.  We’re pretty new to the whole we are not alone thing.”

            “It is alright, human,” the Volm says.

            “You can call me Tom,” he says.  “Tom Mason.

            “Very well, Tom Mason.  You may call me Chichauk Il'sichninch Cha'tichol.”

            Tom presses his lips together.  “I don’t want to offend you again, but I don’t think I can pronounce your name.  Do you have a nickname?”

            “A nickname?”

            “Usually it’s shortened version of your actual name.  Tom is short for Thomas.  Ben is short for Benjamin.  Matt is short for Matthew.  Hal is short for Harold,” Tom says wistfully.  “Those are my sons’ names.”

            “We do not shorten our names,” the Volm says.  “However, it does not matter.  We will not be together long.”

            “What do you mean?” Tom asks.  “Do you know something?”

            The Volm gestures him over and Tom obeys, squatting next to him.  Turns out he didn’t need to worry about him snapping him in half after all- his hands are tied behind his back and his legs are shackled.

            “If you will assist me, I will complete my duty.”

            “What duty?”

            “Volm are to terminate themselves when taken captive.”

            Tom shakes his head flatly.  “I won’t help you kill yourself.”

            “It is necessary.  I should have enough toxin hidden on my person that you could terminate yourself as well.”

            “No!”

            “I cannot let Volm military secrets fall into the hands of the Espheni.  It would be disastrous, not solely for my people but for yours as well.”

            Tom sits next to the alien- he’s decided to call him Cochise, at least in his head- and looks over at him.  “We’re going to get out of here.  Both of us.”

            Something akin to a sigh comes out of his noseholes.  “People do not escape from Espheni prisons.”

            “If you keep killing yourselves before you have the chance, of course not,” Tom says.  “Don’t bother arguing with me.  I won’t help you kill yourself and that’s that.  I’ll help you escape.”

            “As you wish,” Cochise says grimly.

            They come for Tom soon after Cochise stops talking.  He catches Cochise’s eye on the way out, trying to look cocky and sure of himself.  As they drag him, Tom keeps his eyes open, scanning for any possible escapes or weaknesses.  Nothing leaps out at him, but at the very least, gleaning a little bit about the layout can only work to their advantage. 

            The interrogation is kind of a blur.  Karen is there.  They try to get him to surrender his fellow humans, throwing the worst parts of history in his face, but, of course, he refuses.  There’s no way that they’re surrendering their planet. 

            Then they move onto a more traditional interrogation after that.  They ask him about their numbers and their plans and Tom refuses to say anything.  The Espheni, or whatever, don’t appreciate that and proceed to smack him around.

            “Is that all you have?” Tom taunts as the skitters take him back to his cell.

            They don’t say anything, of course, just toss him back into the cell.  Tom takes a second to collect himself before sitting up.  He checks himself over quickly- he’ll have a black eye in the morning and he has a split lip- but he’s otherwise fine. 

            “Tom Mason,” Cochise’s voice comes tentatively.  “Are you alright?”

            Tom spits out some blood and wipes his nose before turning around and scooting towards the wall Cochise is leaning against.  He shrugs like it’s no big deal.

            “I’ve had worse,” Tom says.

            “I am still somewhat unfamiliar with humans, but that red substance appears alarming,” Cochise says. 

            “It’s just blood.  It’s only alarming if it’s a lot,” Tom says. 

            “I will keep that in mind,” Cochise says.  He nods towards a plate on the ground that Tom had overlooked.  “There is sustenance.”

            Tom crawls over to the plate and then back next to Cochise.  “Did you get any?”

            “I do not require as much sustenance as you.  Go ahead and consume it all,” Cochise says. 

            “Are you sure?  I don’t know if they feed us regularly or not,” Tom says.  “I can save some for you just in case.”

            “They tend to be fairly regular with our feedings.  Occasionally they are forgetful, but they wish for us to have enough strength to endure their interrogation,” Cochise says.  “You would save food for me?”

            “Of course,” Tom says, starting to eat.  “We’re in this together.” 

            Cochise presses his thin lips together. 

            “Is there something wrong with that?”  Tom asks. 

            “You barely know me,” Cochise says.

            “You don’t like the skitters; I don’t like the skitters.  We both want to get out of here.  Why not make friends?” Tom asks.  “If it turns out you have terrible plans for Earth, then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

            “What bridge?” Cochise asks.

            “It’s a metaphor.  It means that if I find out later you’re secretly terrible, I’ll deal with it then,” Tom explains. 

            Cochise nods.  “I see.”

            “Although, if you have terrible plans for Earth, you could always tell me now and save me the trouble,” Tom says, smiling at him.

            “We only wish to see the Espheni gone from this planet, and everywhere they may be in the galaxy,” Cochise says, looking back at him.

            Tom likes to think he’s a decent judge of character, but he’s never had to judge an alien.  Not like this.  Cochise seems to be in earnest, though, and Tom rests a hand on his arm.  It seems only right.

            “Then we should be friends.  We have the same goals,” Tom says.

            Cochise looks down at where Tom’s hand is setting on his arm, and Tom is worried he’s committed some kind of Volm faux pas.  He’s about to apologize when their cell door opens again and he snaps his hand back.

            They force Cochise to his feet and drag him towards the door.  Tom gets to his feet, making an attempt to follow him that he knows will be in vain.

            “Where are you taking him?” Tom asks. 

            “Stay back, Tom Mason,” Cochise advises.

            Tom ignores him, following Cochise and the skitters until the skitters knock him back.  He lands on the floor with a thud, watching unhappily as Cochise is taken away.

            While Cochise is gone, he tries to stave off the worry by examining their cell.  It’s bland and grey, with walls graffiti-ed in alien languages.  He traces over the foreign letters, wondering if Cochise knows what they say.  There are no windows, so he can’t see where they are. 

            There’s a bucket in the corner for them to do their business, but other than that, there’s no furniture to speak of.  There are what look like links to chain prisoners up against the wall.  The links are all of varying heights, which only makes sense because they must chain up so many different kinds of people.

            In a room so small and empty, there’s only so long he can distract himself by examining it.  Nothing that even hints at a weakness in the cell wall or floor.  Well, he hadn’t expected it to be easy. 

            With no clocks or watches, there’s no way for him to keep track of how long Cochise is gone.  Tom can hear the sounds of screaming, but none of them sound like they came from Cochise’s throat.  He has a very distinctive voice. 

            When they finally bring Cochise back, he seems half delirious, unable to support his head.  He lays still on the ground, and Tom has to wait until the skitters close the door behind them before checking on him.

            Tom turns him onto his back.  He wishes he had any idea about what was a good or bad sign as far as Volm health.  That Cochise hasn’t said anything can’t be a good thing.  The only thing Tom can do is make him comfortable, or at least as comfortable as possible considering he’s restrained.

            Tom sits by his side for lack of a better place to sit.  He tries not to think too much about anything.  By now, his boys know he’s gone, and even though he did this to save Ben, he feels terrible about abandoning them.  They’re parentless for however long he’s stuck on this ship. 

            He’s so deep in thought that he almost misses it when Cochise starts to stir. 

            “Tom Mason?” Cochise says.

            “Hey!” Tom says, looking down at him.  “How are you feeling?”

            Cochise mutters something in his own language, sounding desolate.  “Do not worry about me.”

            “Do you want something to eat?  I saved some from earlier.”

            “I do not require sustenance,” Cochise says.

            “Do you want anything else?” Tom says.  “I mean, I know I don’t have much, but if you’re cold, I have a jacket, or if you wanna talk- I don’t know how long you’ve been in here by yourself.”

            “The Volm are adapted to a much wider range of climates than humans are, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Cochise says.  “You mentioned you have offspring.”

            “Yeah,” Tom says, smiling despite himself.  “Three boys- Hal, Ben, and Matt.  They’re great kids.  I’ve gotta get back to them.  They don’t have- well.”  He takes a breath.  “I’m the only parent they have left.”

            “You must be careful not to mention them near the Espheni.  When torturing you for information, they will attempt to use them against you,” Cochise says. 

            “I know.  That’s how they got me to walk onto the ship in the first place,” Tom says.

            Cochise tilts his head.  “You came willingly?”

            “They captured my middle son- Ben- near the start of the invasion.  Put one of those damn harnesses on him.  We got him back, but he still has spikes,” Tom explains, rubbing the back of his neck to demonstrate.  “They said that they can still use them to hurt him, but if I came with them, they’d help.”

            “And you believed them?” Cochise asks.

            “Not really,” Tom says, “but I couldn’t take the risk.  If anyone can help, it’s them.  He’s my son.  If I didn’t take this shot, what kind of dad would I be?”

            “If you are speaking of what I believe you are speaking of, the Volm have a device capable of removing the creatures in your offspring’s back,” Cochise says.  “I am uncertain how far away the bulk of the Volm fleet in this region is, but when they arrive, there will be hope.”

            Tom breaks out in a smile.  “Really?  You’re sure they’ll have this device with them?  And they’ll use it?”

            “I am certain.  We wish to free all from Espheni control- and that means the offspring whenever possible,” Cochise says.  

            “Oh, god, you don’t know how relieved that makes me.  That’s… wow,” Tom says, trying to keep from laughing in happiness.  “I can’t believe it.”

            “It does not help free us from this situation,” Cochise says.

            “But it could free Ben,” Tom says. 

            “Would you help me sit up, Tom Mason?” Cochise asks.

            “Of course!” Tom says. 

            He gets unsteadily to his feet, taking a minute to find his balance.  Once he’s sure he’s not about to fall onto Cochise, he helps him sit up.  Together, they work to get Cochise to the wall. 

            Cochise is making noises that sound pained, so Tom tries to be gentler.  He goes quiet once they reach the wall and Tom settles in next to him.

            Tom doesn’t know how late it is, of course, but he’s exhausted and he yawns loudly.  He covers his mouth to be polite, but he can’t help but stretch. 

            “Is something wrong?” Cochise asks when he’s done.  “That was a very alarming sound.”

            “Nah, I’m just tired.  It’s been a long day.”

            “Then perhaps you should rest, Tom Mason.  You will have a long, unpleasant day tomorrow, I am sure,” Cochise says.

            “Good idea,” Tom says. 

            He slides his jacket off to make a makeshift pillow, wading it under his head.  It’s not the worst place he’s slept, so he just stretches again and makes the best of it.  Tom does wish he could turn the light off, though.

            “Goodnight,” Tom says.

            Cochise doesn’t say anything, just makes a generally approving kind of sound.  Tom’s decided to take it as a good sign as his eyes slide shut.

            It barely feels like he’s fallen asleep when he’s being dragged along the floor by two skitters again.  He’s put on his feet again in front of the weird tall alien and Karen.

            “I’m not going to tell you anything.  I’m not going to help you,” Tom says.

            “Not yet,” Karen says.  “You will, though.”

            Tom takes a heavy breath.  He knows what’s coming.  It’s almost funny.  He, of course, hated it when his dad got drunk and took out his frustrations on him.  But it means that he’s used to the slaps and the kicks and how it feels when someone presses too hard on his throat. 

            Thanks, Dad.

            “Don’t be mistaken,” Karen says, crouching in front of him as he tries to breathe.  “We’re starting out easy on you.  I suggest you cooperate before things become difficult.  We have ways of getting into your head that you couldn’t even imagine.  Just ask Ben.”

            “Leave him out of it,” he tries to gasp.

            Karen smiles and lets go of his throat.  Even though his instinct is to start gasping hopelessly, he knows it’s best if he tries to keep breathing even. 

            They drag him back to his cell, but this time, they take Cochise away with them.  At least that means he has time to compose himself before he gets back.  He throws up in the bucket, wiping his face on his wrist when he’s done. 

            While standing up is painful and difficult, he figures he should take the opportunity to pee.  The bucket is now full of his vomit and piss- he hopes they’ll empty it eventually. 

            He scoots as far away from it as he can, pressing his aching body into the corner.  Without much else to do, Tom dozes.  He wishes he had had the foresight to grab his jacket on the way over, but he’s not about to move now.

            When Cochise comes back, he seems a little more with it than the day before.  He manages to make it over to the wall by himself.  

            “I took your spot, sorry,” Tom says.

            “It is alright, Tom Mason.  You appear to be in need of it,” Cochise says.

            “Hey!” Tom says, without much bite.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “You appear severely injured,” Cochise says.  “Parts of your face and throat appear to be different colors than before.” 

            “Glad we don’t have a mirror,” Tom says.

            A skitter brings food not long after that, setting a plate in front of them and taking the old plate away.

            Tom moves achingly slow to get the plate, balancing it in his lap as he settles back in the corner. 

            “You’ve gotta eat something today,” Tom says.

            “I told you that I do not require that much sustenance.”

            “You’ve got to eat, okay,” Tom says.  He’s worried that, since Cochise seemed so intent on killing himself yesterday, he might be trying to starve himself out.  “Just a little.”

            “You are very difficult to argue with,” Cochise says. 

            Tom smiles and shrugs painfully.  “Good.”

            “I cannot use my hands, though,” Cochise says.

            “That’s alright,” Tom says. 

            Tom takes a small piece of the most solid looking food on the plate and grabs it.  Carefully, he takes the food and puts it up to Cochise’s mouth.  Cochise gives him an exasperated look- it’s funny how he can recognize that, no matter what the species- but takes the food from his fingers anyway. 

            He feeds Cochise like that, piece by piece, until a quarter of the food is gone.  At that point Cochise shakes his head.  “That is enough for me.  You should have the rest of it.”

            Tom wants to argue, but he eats most of the rest of the plate instead.  He sets some of it aside, just in case. 

            “Tell me about your planet,” Tom says.  “Please.  I feel like I keep talking your ear off, and I don’t know that much about your people.”

            “We were attacked long ago, but enough of our ancestors escaped that our culture was able to continue.  We fight to stem the Espheni invasion.  One day, the offspring of my offspring of my offspring will walk on our home world once again,” Cochise says softly.

            “You haven’t been on your home world?” Tom asks.

            “No,” Cochise says, looking at him.  Tom can’t be sure, but he looks nearish to tears, or at least the Volm equivalent.  “I do not mean to diminish the sufferings of your people, but be glad that you still fight on your world.  It is a gift.”

            “I know.  We won’t give up our planet.  If we go down they’re coming with us,” Tom says solemnly.  “Where were you raised, then?”

            “The Volm are raised on great ships.  Great nest ships, with other hatchlings our own age.  We do not leave them until we are old enough to fight,” Cochise says. 

            “Nest ships?  Hatchlings?  Like, eggs?” Tom asks.

            “Yes, the Volm are hatched from eggs.” 

            “We have live births.”

            “That sounds messy,” Cochise says.

            “It is, but in a miracle of life kind of way.”

            There’s a routine they eventually fall into.  Karen takes them one by one and then puts them back into their cell, sometimes one of the Espheni is there, sometimes it’s just Karen.  Usually, they get food at some point, and Tom always makes Cochise take at least a quarter of it.  Tom always falls asleep, usually in the middle of their conversation. 

            Cochise is elusive when it comes to sleeping.  Tom has never managed to catch him asleep, and while he tends to be straightforward about anything else that Tom asks him about, he won’t answer anything about sleep.  And Tom doesn’t count the occasionally long periods he’s unconscious after being interrogated sometimes.

            It’s an okay schedule, as far as being held by alien captors and being repeatedly tortured goes.  He learns that Cochise used to have a brother, a war hero who died not too long ago.  In return, he tells Cochise about Rebecca.  Tom presses Cochise about his people’s history, and he’d surprisingly forthcoming.  Even more surprisingly, he’s interested in hearing about Tom’s history as well.

            Tom is even dumb enough to tell Cochise about the nickname he has for him; although, it is a total accident.  Cochise comes back one day and Tom thinks he’s dead.  He certainly looks dead, and when Tom shakes him gently, he doesn’t move.

            Even when Tom presses his ear to Cochise’s chest, he doesn’t hear much.  As always, he’s never quite sure how bad of a sign that is.  He really needs to get the lowdown from Cochise about Volm health 101.  The thought of Cochise not waking up is too terrible to contemplate, though.  So he doesn’t.  He just sits next to Cochise, hand resting on his chest. 

            When Cochise coughs and his eyes fly open, yelling something in his own language, Tom holds his shoulders, trying to get his friend to calm down. 

            “Cochise!  Cochise, it’s okay.  I’ve got you,” Tom says. 

            It takes a few minutes for him to calm down, but when he does, he looks up at Tom in confusion.  “Who is Cochise?”  His breathing is heavy and Tom can tell he’s scared.

            “Wow, sorry,” Tom says, blushing.  “Uh, since I couldn’t pronounce your name, I gave to a nickname.  So I could think about you without just calling you ‘the Volm.’  I’m sorry.”  It feels like something rude to do.

            Cochise thinks it over and then nods, calming down.  “That is very kind of you.”

            “Really?  You don’t mind?” Tom asks.

            “I have never had a nickname.  It is an interesting phenomenon,” Cochise says. 

            Tom smiles, brushing his hand against Cochise’s cheek.  “I’m glad you approve.  Now, how about dinner?”

            “I do not require-“

            Tom shushes him gently and helps prop him up enough that he can eat.  “It’s real gourmet food tonight.”

            “You are employing humor again,” Cochise says, looking at the plate Tom is holding.

            “You’re catching on quick,” Tom says.

            “You humans are a most unusual species.”

            “I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” Tom says primly.

            “As you wish,” Cochise says.

            Tom snorts and smiles as he starts feeding him.  Sometimes things are okay, in this little cell of theirs.  If only they were, you know, anywhere else.  Things could be so good for the two of them.

            The problem with being repeatedly tortured is that it’s wearing them both down, no matter how many little moments they catch together.  And something else- he realizes that they’re doing something in his head, now.    He doesn’t know what exactly, but one time he wakes up from his torture session in his cell and it takes hours for him to feel like he’s back inside his body.  All the while, there’s a confusing mix of hallucinations and a voice calling his name. Over and over.

            It’s not even that physically painful, it’s just confusing, and now he knows what Cochise was worried about.  It’s easy to forget yourself when you’re seeing your three sons for the first time in ages, even if you’re clinging to the knowledge it isn’t them.

            “We’ve got to get out of here,” Tom says one day.  His head is resting on Cochise’s shoulder.  When Tom mentioned one day that it was more comfortable to sleep like this, Cochise had insisted that he sleep on his shoulder, and Tom found the offer too appealing to argue, even though it can’t be entirely comfortable for him.  Cochise is much more comfortable than the floor.

            “I concur,” Cochise says. 

            “Do you know how to open these doors?  From the outside?  Do you have to be a skitter?”

            “All you have to do is press the button.  What are you planning?”

            “Don’t worry about it.  Just be ready,” Tom says. 

            He finishes up the rest of the food and breaks the plate.  It takes some effort, but he manages it.  The pieces aren’t as sharp as he would like them to be.  Not looking at Cochise, he slides them into his jacket. 

            “Let me see your arms,” Tom says. 

            Cochise shakes his head and turns, and Tom grins when he sees that it’s essentially knotted cable.  He works and works at untying it, but only manages to undo a little. 

“I will work at this while you are gone,” Cochise says, turning to his normal position against the wall.  “I do not want them to walk in on us.”

“We’re going to get out of here today.  Just trust me.”

Cochise pauses and looks up at him, assessing him.  It reminds Tom of the first time he was thrown in here.  “I do.  I trust you.”

Tom smiles, and the skitter comes in and Tom tries to look reassuring as he stumbles away, head held high again.  He counts the number of doors between his cell and the end of the corridor.  He can’t get lost. 

            Tom doesn’t wait for Karen to start taunting him, or for either of them to lay a hand on him, just for the skitter guards to be dismissed.  The Espheni has a weapon, so Tom charges at it first. 

            Sadly, his makeshift plate doesn’t slice through the alien like he’d like, but it stuns him enough that Tom can take his gun.  He shoots both of them as quickly as possible, making sure they’re both down for the count before running back down the hallway.

            Tom counts carefully, pressing his fingers carefully at the button.  He’s worried that it doesn’t work at first, but the door slides open and Cochise is there.  Cochise gets to his feet, legs still bound, but arms free for the first time that Tom has seen. 

            “Nice arms,” Tom says.  “Watch out.”

            Cochise spreads his legs as much as he can and nods at him.  Tom shoots at the chain binding his legs a few time, feeling more confident in his escape plan now that Cochise is free with him. 

            “I know the way to the bay, follow me,” Cochise says, leading him down the hall.  “If we move quickly, we will not meet resistance.  The Espheni do not have prisoner escapes.”

            “Not ‘till now,” Tom says, fingers curled around the gun. 

            Tom follows him and they end up in a room full of ships- Tom shooting what he hopes is the locking mechanism.  He surveys them with a sigh and then looks up at Cochise.  “It’s been good to meet you, Cochise.  I’m glad we were locked up together.”

            “It would have been better not to have been taken prisoner in the first place,” Cochise says, “but I am glad that we met.”

            “You find us, okay?  When you come back to Earth, you find us,” Tom says.

            “You are coming with me, Tom Mason.  I do not believe you know how to fly a spaceship.  I am not even entirely certain how to fly this craft,” Cochise says.

            “You be careful, then.  But we’re going in different directions, Cochise.  You’ve gotta go back to your people and I’ve got to go back to my sons,” Tom says.

            There are sounds from outside of the door of the bay, and it sounds like they’re about to break down the door.  “They are coming for us.”

            “I’ll hold them off,” Tom says.

            “You will be recaptured.”  Cochise grabs his arm and starts pulling him towards the ship. 

            “I can hold them off to give you more time.  You said you barely have any idea how to fly it- you need the time.”  Tom shakes him off.  “You go back to your people, you get them to come to Earth as soon as they can, okay?  Help us.” 

            “Goodbye, Tom Mason.  You are incredibly brave,” Cochise says, squeezing Tom’s shoulder quickly before entering one of the ships.

            “Bye, Cochise,” Tom murmurs, taking cover behind one of the other ships. 

            He shoots the first few skitters that make it through the door, and Cochise manages to take off.  Tom smiles as he watches him go, even as he gets sprayed with debris as Cochise punches through the wall.  Good. 

            They’re only a few stories up, so Tom decides to jump.  It’s either gravity or the skitters.  The fall feels like forever, and he decides he’s led a good life.  There are plenty of things he wishes he had done, had taken advantage of when he had the chance, but over all, it’s been a good life. 

            There’s a searing pain in his back before he hits the ground.  Those skitters are damn good shots.

            He wakes up in a field and looks around, confused.  There are several other people in the field with him, but the last thing he remembers, he was walking onto an alien ship with Karen.  What the hell?

            Before he can even try to put it together, mechs appear in the field.  Everyone runs, and everyone but Tom dies.

* * *

 

            Cochise is almost trembling with excitement.  It took far too long to convince Volm high command, but Cochise is finally returning to Earth.  He does not know whether or not Tom Mason survived, but he hopes to be able to find his offspring somehow.  Without him, he would have died in that prison.  Cochise seeks to repay that debt.

            They land near the largest population of humans they can find, and he is gladdened to know that it nearby where Tom described living.  Perhaps he or his offspring have managed to make his way.

            When they land on the planet, a large crowd of humans has come out to see them.  He expects that, even if Tom is there, he’ll have to search for him, but his is the first face that Cochise sees.

            He takes his helmet off, smile stretching across his face.  “We come in peace.”  It is an Earth reference that Tom taught him in their time of captivity. 

            Cochise crosses the space between them, heedless of judgmental stares of his comrades and the human weapons pointed at him.  He had not believed he would see his face again.

            “It is good to see you again, Tom Mason,” Cochise says, clasping his arm.  “I am glad to see that you survived.  I have been worried about you.”

            “Excuse me?” Tom says.

            Cochise realizes that there is no familiar expression of affection in Tom’s eyes anymore and he self-consciously removes his hand.

            “Dad?”  Another human says.  His gun is pointed at Cochise’s head.

            “I’m not sure, Ben,” Tom says, looking hard at Cochise.  “But I don’t think they’re here to hurt us.”

            “I am not.  I am here to assist you,” Cochise says.  “Tom Mason, we have many things to discuss.” 

            There is a strangely hollow feeling in his chest cavity.  He had not anticipated that Tom would not remember him.  He had not anticipated that Tom’s ultimate fate would affect him so much, apart from his duty to him for having saved his life.  But Tom Mason is alive and here and has no recollection of him.  It is both great and terrible.

            “Do you have a name?” Tom asks.  “Since you seem to know mine.”

            “I am Chichauk Il'sichninch Cha'tichol of the Volm.”  Cochise pauses, so he can see the familiar confused look on his friend’s face.  “But, you may call me Cochise.”

            Tom’s face stretches into a beautiful smile.  “Cochise, that’s a good nickname.”

            “Yes, it is.  We have much to discuss.”

            For a second, what appears to be the slightest hint of recognition flashes across Tom’s face.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I think we do.”


End file.
